There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease
by Xyliette
Summary: Continuation of 2.22. Everyone struggles to find their footholds while dealing with disasters of their own making. Noah/Addison, Pete/Addison, Pete/Violet, Sam/Addison friendship. Addison-centric.
1. we are a vision of despair

A/N: Because I like messes, this happened. Hopefully, only two parts, we'll see what my brain does. Also, all cut lyrics will belong to Chelsea Wolfe's _Mistake in Parting_. Enjoy-

**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease  
- This Will Destroy You  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"What the hell is wrong with today?" The voice across the room catches Pete's attention. If not for the tone, but for the person. One Addison Montgomery is hunched over in a chair clutching her scalp like she's about to skin herself.

"Excuse me?" Pete asks, happy to take on someone else's issues while they all wait for Violet to come out of the anesthesia and make a miraculous appearance.

"It's just," Addison drops a bunch of red hair and holds her hands up to the heavens begging for some mercy. Between Archer, Naomi, the pending lawsuit, Morgan, Noah, and now Violet her plate is a little full, and she needs a moment spent where she isn't spinning out and going in nine different directions. "What is wrong with people here?"

"Los Angeles," Pete clarifies, getting the answer in her eyes as she shrugs back at him. "Maybe it's all the sun."

"Who does that to someone else? To someone's baby?" Addison asks, trying to wrap her head around it. Sure, she's seen all types of crazy, and has her own bag of magic, but this is unthinkable. And frankly she's worn down here, chipped and cracked, men working her over without care (but with her express permission), her own mind landing her in one ditch after another.

"She's sick Addison," Pete tells her, recalling Katy and her devious plan to cut a child from its mother.

"Still," Addison sighs, leaning back against the chair, drawing her knees toward her chest. She counts to three and then tries another subject with the jumpy man to her left. "He looked...good," she sputters, trying not to scare him.

"I'm...happy," Pete answers, in relation to the tiny baby upstairs being fawned over and addressed very carefully by Charlotte King herself and a very dedicated group of professionals who kicked Addison out minutes ago. He thought she may yell at them, but instead she resigned to the waiting area quietly, having had enough already.

He walked out of his own volition. Traditional medical procedures, especially on someone close to him, they aren't his thing.

"You don't look happy," Addison ascertains, glancing at him once more. His hands are wrung tight, knuckles white, and his right leg is bouncing up and down uncontrollably.

"How's Noah?"

Addison frowns and glares at her co-worker, signaling him that it is time to move on. She doesn't know how Noah is. Her voicemail, however, knows very well. "He looks like you a little. The eyes, the nose. I mean he's going to have Violet's hair and chin but...the rest, I think...it's you." And she would know, because this is what she does, studying other people's little miracles, dreaming of her own.

"Don't know," Pete responds, trying not to think about it. He agreed to be with Violet, kind of. Keyed her in on his feelings but the world is turning backwards right now and he just can't comprehend being a father. He feels a freak out on the horizon. "I heard about Naomi," Pete says a few seconds later, as they trade daggers.

"Yeah," Addison nods. Word still spread like wildfire no matter where you were on that issue.

"What are you going to do Boss?" Pete laughs a little, drinking in her shivers.

Addison flips her head around, focusing on Pete for a minute. Pete who has stepped up and been her friend when no one else has bothered speaking to her, Pete who has had her back through out the weird ongoing Noah thing. She swallows heavily at the thought of Naomi leaving them, of her being "there" but always out of reach. Isn't that exactly where everyone else in her life is- at an arm's reach. Besides it feels like just yesterday that they finally made up and now she's being abandoned again. "She says it's not her practice anymore. I want her to be happy, personally. Professionally, it's an amazing offer, but..."

"She's your friend," Pete finishes for her, leaving her to her subtle sniffling in the corner.

"Yeah," Addison agrees, "she's my friend. I moved here to...and now...I don't want to do this alone."

"Cooper, Sam and I aren't going anywhere," Pete assures her quietly, watching as a few nurses scuttle past the dimly lit room without any news for him.

"I know," Addison croaks, voice tender and strained. Except, Violet is out indefinitely, Pete will be a mess, and Cooper will need time off to watch Violet. Basically, she and Sam will be running the practice while Dell prances around trying to be useful.

Lord how it's been a long day. She rests her palm on her cheek, supporting her entire upper body on an elbow pressed into her leg. She feels like she could topple over at any moment; she thinks that maybe she wouldn't mind a nice push over the edge. "It was supposed to be better...here."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Dr. Wilder-" the nurse in front of him speaks, her thin frame shaking as she clutches at the hem of her shirt. Pete simply looks up and nods, noting the taller, more in charge looking person pacing to catch up. Addison is still next to him, even after he insist she go home and sleep or drink, saying that he needed her here, it was the least she could offer. So he tries to interpret her face, the little lines giving away that she at least knows who these people are.

"If you could come with us," the taller one says to him, brushing her honey-colored hair off her shoulder, "we have some things to speak about."

Pete feels his legs rise on their own, Addison hot on his trail, but they stop shortly, coming to a rest right outside a dimly lit room, eerily quiet. "Just Dr. Wilder," the nurse says to Addison and she backs off, content to go back and wallow in the indent she's made over the last few hours.

Sometimes he's not sure she can move, even when she wants to.

Pete thinks he'll never forget that click, the silent sealing of his fate as he stared at a lifeless blanket. Five hours, fighting like hell, and it was all for not. Whatever it was, the freaky anesthetic, or the impromptu c-section—he just couldn't handle it. He was ready, but not okay with being mangled, torn from the person who was supposed to protect him.

People, who were supposed to keep him safe.

Pete reaches out slowly, being offered the body he would have called a son, regardless of the Sheldon situation. He wonders if Violet knows, if she can sense it somehow. Selfishly, he wonders if he'll have to suffer through them telling her too.

On another level he's relieved. Nothing matters anymore.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Addison?" Noah calls out cautiously, the darkened room holding only one familiar face. He watches her kick out her legs, knees stretching toward the floor, her shoulders helplessly slumped. "You okay?"

Addison rolls her eyes to herself, huffs out a reply, and attempts to stand, falling into a pathetic pile that Noah graciously catches and holds upright. "Sorry," she murmurs, looking around for a clock, certain a day and a half has elapsed. Her legs tingle, previously unaware that she had been slowly cutting off the circulation to them.

"Don't," he holds a hand out to stop her. She looks far too beaten down to stand, but all of a sudden she recoils, energy bounding from nowhere, a small smile on her face. "I-"

"You should be with Morgan," Addison nods, looking at her watch again, feet aching as she stands. "I'll check in on her in the morning. Excuse me."

She's about to tear through the empty hallway, a flame spreading toward her escape route, when she feels a warm hand on her arm. She can't deny that it feels good. He spins her back, forcing the eye contact she has grown to hate. There's nothing worse than looking there and finding nothing, or in this instance something too consuming to ignore. "Noah-"

"Addison," he breathes, tracing her jaw lightly. It's been a big day, he's a father, but all he wanted to do was come tell her the great news, as if she didn't know. He always seems to jog toward her, no matter how much they are hurting everyone else around them. The last few months, for him, have been pleasure laced in torture, and he's ready to break the shackles that prevent their happiness. Selfishly though, he wants to kiss her now.

"I need to go," Addison says weakly, her statement gaining no steam.

"Dr. Montgomery?" A voice squeaks behind her, saving her from whatever crimes they are about to commit. She needs that one day without coveting, without sinning.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Wilder needs...can you come with me please? We need you immediately."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Pete?" Addison whispers, stepping into the very space she was booted from hours before. Tenderly, she places a reluctant hand on his shoulder. It's late and she'd love nothing more than her bed, or a bed somewhere, but he's been unexpectedly good to her. She tries to repay favors when possible.

"Pete," she hisses softly, melancholy stinging filling the vast space around them.

"I'm fine," Pete tells her, scrubbing a hand over his face, eyes squinting as he turns around and faces the bright hallway behind her. "I'm good actually," he decides. "I'm going to go...home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Addison knows he won't be there tomorrow, even if he doesn't yet. She's done this carousel ride before. "Pete," she demands, drawing nothing from the visibly shaken man in front of her. And despite her career focus, and the sheer volume of deaths she's dealt with over the years, she is no good at this. Not when it's personal, not when it's paramount.

She makes stupid jokes, giggles when she shouldn't be giggling, and through her training she learned that staying silent was better. After a while she mastered the look of sympathy, but none of that is acceptable. Pete deserves more than her well rehearsed speeches, doled out to one grieving parent after another.

"Pete!" she yells, striding forward, shoulders back and determined for the first time all night.

"You should check on Violet," Pete murmurs, turning back around. "I'm good," he repeats to her.

"I know," Addison whispers, wrapping her tired arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. After a few seconds he responds, burying his head in her neck, positive she can feel the moisture that's beginning to gather. "We're all good," Addison mumbles, gripping him tighter. "We're all okay."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

By Tuesday the domino effect is in full force, the intensity of what had happened, shuffling her personnel until she was the only one left besides the receptionist. However, she was busy. And thankful. After Dell popped into her office after lunch to tell her he had to go pick up his daughter because she was sick, well that was the straw that broke the camel's back. So now she sips at her coffee, crushing the container, wishing she had a punching bag. She can feel the stress in her chest, and there's no sign of adrenaline coming in to save the day.

There's never any relief on the horizon anymore.

No, instead, she's forced to give plain exams, explain why her co-workers are missing, and talk a very disturbed patient of Violet's off the hypothetical ledge of a building. All in a day's work for Addison Montgomery, the one woman practice running machine. And before, when she felt like she was the only one working, the only one generating revenue, she at least had Sam. Sam who has been on a house call for the last six hours without any word or indication as to how it is going.

Addison settles into her office chair with a loud, begrudging, groan. She allows her feet free of their black captors, running them along the rug on the floor. Gently she compartmentalizes the day, assured that tomorrow can be no worse. Then she picks up a pen and begins the task of running through every single thing she's accomplished today.

That in itself feels good.

"Addison?" Noah greets, letting himself into her office. "Quiet in here today."

"Just me," Addison grins. And when he tells her that it's good that they are alone a knot begins to form in her throat.

"I want to leave her," Noah declares. "It's just...he's so perfect Addison. He sleeps and he-"

"I'm well versed in babies," she reminds him, not caring to hear about how excited another person is to be a proud mommy or daddy. It's never her turn, and she hasn't enough energy to pretend to be interested in a three day old child who can hardly see the world he is encased in.

"Right," Noah nods. "I love him but... I want to leave her."

"Shouldn't make promises-"

"It's not a promise Addison," Noah interrupts. "I'm telling you what's happening. We could be together, I want to be together."

"You don't know what you're doing," Addison informs him, but she does, excruciatingly well. It never goes how you plan, how you hope. It's difficult to cut and run, even when it's clear you don't belong.

"I still want us." Noah grabs her free hand, the one not fiddling with a pen and squeezes lightly. "I love you Addison."

And she smiles despite herself, because proclamations of love tend to warm her soul, and because it doesn't scare her when it comes out of his mouth. The rest of it, his marriage, his son, that's scary, but them in the simplicity of being together is not frightening. It sounds nothing short of wonderful. "I can't...do this. You can't do this Noah. You have a family now, and that's...it's more important than whatever we were doing."

His fingers slide up her bare arm, enjoying the jolts of electricity he is positive they both feel. Her skin is impossibly soft, and he thinks he could spend the rest of his life mapping her curves, her scars. "You are important to me," he reveals genuinely. It's quite inconceivable, he's not this guy.

He was a better man before Addison Montgomery.

He was wavering, but better. Unhappy, but better. And now he can't control himself. His lips edge along hers, nipping, fighting, biting until she responds. He loves the way her hands play with his hair, the way they fall down his chest. This time he is fulfilled with only kissing her, to never have to see the way she was disgusted with herself when they pulled apart before. Personally, he just hated that it had to end. He pushes her up out of her chair, onto the desk, wanting nothing more than a little extra contact as her legs wrap around him.

He doesn't count on her hand grabbing his belt.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

In reflection, Noah still slouched over her stomach, Addison feels the need to sprint out of the room. It had to be done, she reckons. They never would have stopped themselves until they got to this point, the fuzzy edges of euphoria still ripping through her chest. She feels feathery kisses along her skin, and is pulled toward the couch seconds later.

He holds her in a manner that makes her wish that he doesn't have to let go at some point. He understands her in a way that she's not sure anyone ever has before, seeing through her facade instantly. Completely naked, exposed, blinds to her office not even drawn, she lies halfway on top of him.

Nothing has ever felt better and coincidentally worse. She's never hated herself more than she does in this moment. "We shouldn't have-"

"Don't...ruin it," Noah breathes out. "Don't trivialize it like that Addison." He wants to do that every second of every day for the rest of his life. He could never tire of the way she moves her hips, the way she moans. But it's more than that, it's the connection they share, the comfort.

"You can't have us both." She wishes she was a stronger person, wishes that maybe in a perfect world they could all be raising that tiny baby boy. She would love nothing more than the opportunity to raise a child, but she's wise enough to know it couldn't possibly work.

People don't forgive in her world. It would constantly float above their heads, ready at the will of any fight. It could never be blameless, and she couldn't fathom doing that to a child.

"I choose you."

She doesn't bother telling him about the mistake he's just made, he'll figure it out sooner or later.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Who was at the door?" Sam asks, nursing his beer, feet dangling into the sand.

"I don't want to talk about it," Addison answers, running a hand through her wind blown hair. Noah has shown up every night for the last week. And she's yet to open the door. Because she doesn't know what that entails. There's chaos blowing outside her house, and if she opened the option for him to come in and sweep her off her feet, she's not sure she could ever close it again.

"Fair enough," Sam replies, handing her the wine glass she discarded earlier. "Heard from Naomi?"

"Yeah," Addison nods. "She sounds happy."

"You know, it's weird. She's right downstairs...but I never see her. Charlotte King on the other hand..."

"True," Addison smiles. Charlotte was always around. Naomi hasn't dared to step a foot into the haunted place she discarded. She pauses out of habit, Sam taking to the ocean once more. "We're pathetic."

"Speak for yourself," Sam kids without looking over at her.

"I...am. Definitely pathetic," Addison gulps. "He has a family, a son, and I think I have some sort of right to interfere-"

"Am I allowed to speak?" Sam wonders aloud, turning around, feet kicking up a puff of sand as he goes. When she says nothing he takes thinks it safe to continue. "We don't know what's best for people, maybe he needs to walk away from that," Sam nods, encouraging himself. "Sometimes people have to walk away."

Secretly she wonders why it is that everyone has to walk away from her, how long it will take her to make Noah dash off in the other direction.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Noah," Addison shouts loudly, opening the door on the eighth day. "Please leave me alon- Pete?"

"Violet..." Pete ambles forward, shrugging his jacket off onto her floor, leaving her to scoop up the mess and place it on the hanging pegs. "She won't talk to me. She wants happy, and then she just...shuts me out."

"Pete," Addison chides instantly. "She's going through-"

"I'm going through it too!" Pete yells at her suddenly, the magnitude of the last week weighing him down. "She doesn't...she won't involve me, and Cooper-"

"Cooper is her friend, maybe it's easier for her," Addison excuses. She doesn't know Violet well enough to understand much of anything but Pete is so enraged that she feels little in the way of other options.

"I should be what's easier, it should be me," Pete mumbles as he falls onto her couch, the doors opened to the rumbling ocean. "It's never going to be me."

Addison pulls a pillow into her lap, placing her bare feet on the coffee table. "I'm sorry Pete." She watches him shake his head, trying to rid himself of the despair they've become shrouded in. She'd commiserate with him, offer some of her own sordid tales, but it's not the time for that.

"Addison," Pete whispers, absorbing her hesitance. They both know it's coming. Inevitable from that day in the stairwell.

Seconds later, the pillow she was clutching has been thrown to the floor, Pete's body crushing her own. Her mouth hungrily seeks out his, frustrated and aching, the throbbing between her legs already enough to make her squirm in delight and anticipation.

She'd stop him, but sex with men who don't truly want her is becoming, if nothing else, a specialty of sorts.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**


	2. I don't want to be a mistake in parting

A/N: 3 parts? Let us hope. Thanks for hanging in there with this weird story, I can't explain the urge that created this mess, but here it is anyway. Enjoy-

**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

At first the warm sensation under her cheek is welcome, almost invigorating, until she opens her eyes and realizes that no it's not her ex-husband, her ex-booty call, or even that guy she has been trying not to pursue for months now—it's Pete. Pete, her friend. Pete, her almost whatever. The guy that kisses her in stairwells for no reason and then has to gall to ask if she wants to do it again.

Addison's face flies off Pete's chest in a flurry of straitening covers and mumbled groans, as she wraps a sheet around herself and toes into the bathroom for a chastising shower. Between bars of wondering how she could be so damn stupid, and attempting not to remember how his hands slid so wonderfully down her body, the unlocked entrance creeks open and the shower door flings back. "Pete-"

Pete reaches around her for the shampoo not particularly caring that he is going to smell like Addison all day. He lathers as she stands agape. Her mouth hasn't closed by the time he pushes her to the side to rinse his hair, and he sighs audibly. In a manic fit they did some rash, to which he has no problems with, but assumes she does. At least, if her suddenly frozen posture has anything to say about the situation. His hands find her body wash, barely scented and he is in the middle of working up a good foam on his stomach before she can find words. He can't help that it makes him smirk, his ego needs a bit of stroking after the demolition fest that has been Violet lately.

"We...shouldn't...have," Addison stammers, her mouth minty fresh from toothpaste but her brain not quite engaged yet. Plus, there's a naked man in front of her, and despite her growing maturity, there's still an overriding instinct to crush her lips against his and take full advantage of something she knows she could have very easily.

"I don't see why not," Pete argues, for the fun of it. Getting under this redhead's skin should be a sport and while he's been trying to be nice and supportive lately, he's not feeling it today.

"Violet-"

"Hates both of us," he finishes for her. And really, it's par for his life. Admitting love, wanting commitment, getting it thrown back in his face.

"She hates me?" Addison questions aloud instantly, face crinkling to remember a time when they clashed.

"How would I know?" Pete asks her, turning around, giving her a good view of the back she left red streaks across the previous night. He feels her reach out and gently trace one, her fingers like feathers. "Don't worry about it," he instructs, meant more for the entire evening, rather than the minimal injuries he sustained pleasing her.

It's coming back in waves. Flashes of discarded clothes. Panting, tumbling to the living room floor. Addison gulps. She could live with a daily dose of what happened a few hours ago, hell she may be a more pleasant individual even.

"It wasn't anything," Pete continues. "Not a big deal."

"Yeah," she mumbles finally. It's nothing.

Except she wants to do it again and again.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Addison," Noah whispers guiltily, checking down the hall before slipping into her office.

She hangs her head behind the magazine in her hands. It's really not the day to begin this. She was hoping that since she hadn't heard from him in almost a week that chances were he came to his senses. Addison forces herself to smile when he sits down on the desk in front of her, cupping her cheeks gently and announcing, "I did it."

"Did what?" She has the nerves to ask. It could be many things, she reminds herself.

"I left her," he grins. "I needed some time after....I took a few days, and I'm sorry, but...I wanted to ask you something."

"Ok," Addison swallows. A first time mother, fresh off an incredibly high-risk pregnancy is now at home...alone, and it's her fault. Wonderful.

"I was," Noah drops her face finally and reaches out for her clammy palms, "hoping that maybe you'd like to go out to dinner with me."

"Dinner," Addison repeats, trying to make sense of it. Sex, then the date. It seems to be how she works lately. If she gets the date at all.

"You know, you, me, food, drinks, maybe some dancing. It'll be fun. Plus...I want a chance to...be with you."

"You aren't ready for this," she warns him. In reference to both the date but also the bag of crazy that she brings into any romantic entanglement. Perhaps Pete is onto something with this whole "fun" thing. Just because she was married once, it doesn't have to mean that she is the marrying type, right? Except that part where she's a serial monogamist. She even dated her extra-marital affair for a few months out of desperation.

"I'm ready," Noah nods convincingly, leaving a sweet kiss on her upper lip. "I want this Addison, so bad. I think...I know, you're my one."

Such proclamations usually tend to let her down, but it doesn't mean she isn't swooning into it heart first. "Ok," she replies rather optimistically, mouth curving upward. Maybe he's ready, who is she to say anyway?

"7?" Noah questions, getting a slight affirmation. "I'll pick you up."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

7:30 however, finds her out on the dimly lit deck, watching the ocean, mesmerized by it's anger. There's a voicemail explaining an emergency, and she thinks, swirling her drink, that it should serve as a sign. Coincidentally, scheduling for the next day also falls through, and yet she perseveres, until finally, Friday, they are seated across one another a quaint little Thai restaurant that he assures her will change her life.

She remains steadfast and determined, even after suffering through horrible food poisoning the following days.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Noah creeps through Addison's house quietly, afraid he may wake her if she isn't already up. He checked at the practice and her co-worker, Sam he thinks it was, informed him that she was still out. Since he hasn't gotten a return call on their slightly disastrous date he believes it may be time to check in with her.

When he reaches the living area though, a place he's never been privy to, he finds her curled up outside, admiring the dark night sky. "Addison?" he calls out, not wanting to scare her completely out of her mind. He smiles when she waves him out toward her, and takes the empty space next to her, hoping that it isn't too close. "You didn't call me back."

"Sick," Addison informs him, stomach still queasy from her fun battles. She hasn't had a reason to stay home sick in years, and she probably could be working but with everything else snowballing, staying at home felt like the best option. Plus a little wallowing never hurt anyone. She is, however, beginning to regret the red wine sitting next to her, almost empty.

"Oh," Noah breathes, immediately concerned, his hand being slapped away from her instantly when he tries to deduce the level of illness.

"I'm fine," she assures him. Probably more heartbroken/wracked with insurmountable guilt than anything else. The illness portion of this has being played up in her mind, hyped.

"You should be inside," he tells her, lovingly wrapping the thin blanket around her feet a little tighter.

He's that guy. The kind she can't resist, the seemingly good one. The one who doesn't hurt the people he hurts on purpose. She admires it. "Needed some fresh air."

"Ok," Noah concedes, falling back into the chair and looking up at the night sky. He could get used to this, the barely visible stars, the sound of waves slamming into the shore. She has a nice life that he would love to be a part of. "Would...can I stay over...so I don't worry about you all night?"

"Noah-"

"I'm willing to stay on the couch," he vocalizes, though he'd much prefer to hold her. "I won't try anything."

She nods, and he disappears seconds later with his ringing cell phone in hand. "You don't want me," she whispers warningly, well after he's gone.

She's not a big enough person to send him home, she's not strong enough to stop this tidal wave from crashing down upon them.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Pete has Violet pressed up against him while he's busy thinking about Addison. He knows it's not right, and that this is his chance, the crazy woman did call and apologize for her blatant dismissal of him before. She explained that she's grieving, and insane (always insane she mentioned, he knows), and that he shouldn't be offended by her because she means no harm.

But he is, and she does.

"Thanks...for dinner," Violet says softly, relaxing into the man behind her. It's not everyday you get a reformed guy wanting happiness, not everyday that she allows herself to dip her toes into something ultimately good. She tosses a drying fry down on the coffee table and cuddles back into him once more. She's still sore, bruised, and ultimately torn up- inside and out. But having Pete here, having anyone here who feels some bit of pain is comforting in itself. Misery does love it's company.

"Not a problem," Pete murmurs soothingly into her wild hair, hands stroking her arms as they aimlessly flip through channels. There's still a few discarded bottles of beer littering the floor and he knows she's been heavy at work trying to not only to recover, but also to forget it ever happened. "I think..." Pete drags on, "I think I was...ready, for this. For our family." It's a tiny voice inside him, one he doesn't recognize and likes to think doesn't really exist.

The man he is right now, it's the layer of skin, of memories he's been trying to shed for years.

Violet takes a deep breath, her nose perpetually stuffed, eyes always red. "Me too."

He owes it to her, to stay. What they've been through, he wouldn't wish on anyone.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"See it's not all that bad," Noah tells her, feet wound into his skilled hands, eyes beginning to drop against the hazy fuzz of colors on the television screen in front of them.

"No," Addison mumbles stilted, trying to stop from falling asleep while he is still up in her room.

"Are you okay?" Noah asks, knowing that despite strong evidence to the contrary she isn't completely over whatever she has been dragging her down.

"You shouldn't be here," Addison says wistfully. Not that she doesn't enjoy him being here, not that she doesn't applaud a man who wants to be with her voluntarily. But their relationship isn't and can never be shrouded in the newness that most couples get to experience. They're already bogged down by issues, circumstances, and she doesn't need the fight anymore. While sometimes it easy to disengage his wife, his child from the man in front of her, it's always there in the back of her mind.

And that bit of her mind, it's the place she's been trying to escape since her flighty road trip down here over a year ago.

She's ripping apart a family, regardless of how much responsibility she actually carries in the action. She feels like she is tearing haphazardly through someone's world for something that may ultimately fall apart. It's not worth that, she's not worth that.

"I'm where I want to be," Noah tells her, pushing his thumb into her heel a little too hard and causing her to squirm. "I didn't tell you this," he clears his throat. "I don't want this to be about Morgan. We decided to separate amicably, she agreed that it isn't working. I'm still very much a part of my son's life, and we are working with our lawyer to reach some sort of definitive custody agreement. I don't want it to...interrupt what we are doing. She's always going to be a small part of my life Addison, but I love you and I hope someday that will be enough to make it all right again."

Noah squeezes her left foot lightly when she doesn't reply, when he thinks that the shine in her eyes may not be from exhaustion. "Ok?"

"Yeah."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

What feels like forty but is actually only four voicemails to Naomi later she finally gets a response. A simple text on her phone telling her that they should get together tonight at Naomi's because she has Maya. Addison breathes a deep sigh of relief, upon seeing that she may be able to flee the world she has made lately, and divulge in some good wine and heavy chocolate. Seeing her best friend, turned arch rival also couldn't hurt. Cathartic cleansing.

"Addison?" Pete blurts out, walking past her office, attempting to get on with his damn day after spending another night curled up around Violet and cursing his misfortune.

"Hey," Addison smiles. They haven't seen much of each other, but to her relief, he was right and it was literally nothing. She almost feels like their friendship is now stronger for having gone through it. Almost being the key.

"I...just wanted to say thanks...for the other night. I didn't before, and I should have."

"You're thanking me for sex?" Addison blushes unconsciously.

"Not specifically that," Pete grins. "The other stuff, about Violet-"

"Oh, right. How is she?"

"Better. Getting better," Pete replies, lingering in her doorway. "I should...get going," he says to himself, watching as she uncrosses and recrosses the legs that he loves having wrapped around his back. The haunting images of that night love to play across his closed eyelids at night, when he is supposed to be focused on the painful consequences of the previous two weeks.

He's too happy to just have had his life torn apart, too content that nothing is quite how he imagined it would be just a few short weeks ago. That's the unsettling part, at least, that's what he tells himself. The reality that he wasn't attached, that his mind was playing tricks on him because he thought there was going to be a mother of his child, thought there would be a child, that's not the kind of semantics he likes to divulge into on a Monday.

"That's good to hear," Addison tells him, professional mode slipping back over her almost as easily as the denial. "About Violet, I mean."

"How's the guy?" Pete asks interestedly, dipping further towards the lavender walls.

"Left his wife," Addison nods.

"This is good?"

"I don't know, we'll see," she tells him honestly, watching as his lower lip bounces in anticipation, watching his arms over the thin black barrier of his shirt. He looks just as delicious now as he did then and she can't help but let her mouth salivate.

"I should...go, patient waiting," Pete repeats, eyes tracing her as she makes each movement, wondering what it would feel like to have her arms wrapped around his neck just once more as he stumbles from the room. "I'll see you later."

"I have a surgery...later," Addison murmurs futilely as he dashes from the room.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison can effortlessly get lost in Noah. His humor, his charm, his smile. It's simple to be enamored, to laugh loudly with him. There's a jaded sort of side to him that she appreciates. They've both seen the horridness that life can bring and are still standing. She likes that they can relate in that manner, so when he begins to chuckle once more, sliding her a white carton of takeout, she giggles too.

He's infectious.

"I don't think I've ever seen Charlotte King look so embarrassed," he tells her, the story lingering from this afternoon where they were both witness to her rather devastating fall. Since nothing was broken, scraped, or torn Addison feels free to embellish a little and receive pleasure in another's discomfort.

"Made my day," Addison smiles proudly, spooning another mouthful of noodles into her mouth.

"I thought I made your day," Noah pouts playfully, receiving nothing short of a full eye roll.

"My patients," Addison corrects truthfully, "make my day." It's kind of all she has going for her as of late anyway.

Noah is just about to reply about how much he enjoys that medicine hasn't ruined that aspect of the job for her yet when the knock on the door interrupts them. Addison excuses herself, and seconds later is backtracking into the house, trying to stand firm in front of another man.

"Pete-"

"You have company," Pete frowns. He really needed her tonight. Especially after learning the wrenching news that the kid he was planning on raising wasn't actually his but belonged to the dorky downstairs psychologist, Sheldon. He attempted the whole it didn't matter whose kid it was they were all going to love it thing, but it didn't work, and neither did the first seven drinks, so now he's swaying in Addison's entryway, a familiar but unplaceable man standing behind her protectively.

"Addison," Noah intervenes, "Do you want him here?"

"It's fine, can you give us a minute?" she asks unwittingly, watching Pete's eyes begin to spin.

"Is that the guy?" Pete questions distastefully.

"The guy?" Noah parrots, looking over Addison's shoulder, placing a light hand on the small of her back.

"She's too good for you," Pete shakes his head, feeling it swirl slowly, trying to catch up with the action.

"Pete," Addison speaks up, steering him back toward the door skillfully. "Noah, one minute, okay?" She looks behind her, telling him to back off for a second. Leave it to Pete to screw up the first date they've had where things are actually going well. "What?" she seethes, biting down on her lip.

"I- Violet...Sheldon." It's too magnificent to speak aloud, especially with the other asshat a room over.

"Pete," Addison whispers. "I can't help you right now-"

"I's...wanted to see you."

"Well, I appreciate that," she nods placating, treating him like a small child. "But I'm kind of busy...right now-"

"I don't like him," Pete crinkles his nose.

"Not your call," Addison retorts strongly. "Do you want me to get you a cab or something?"

"Can I stay?" he asks, brushing by her toward Noah. The thought of riding in another traffic jammed, slow, stench ridden cab is already making his stomach curl.

"I don't think-"

"It's alright," Noah tells her, leaving a lingering kiss on her cheek. "I need to get going anyway," he glances at his phone, having just received a message from Morgan. She's exhausted and Jack is fussy and he likes to help, plus it seems like a convenient time. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Great," she mumbles, glaring over at Pete who has made himself at home on her couch and looks as though he could pass out at any moment. "Just fantastic."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Addison?" Sam yawns, pulling the door open further, allowing her to step into the darkness. "What's-"

"Sorry...I'm sorry," Addison sniffles into her sleeve. "I know it's late, but Naomi is...never there anymore and I...just needed someone."

"It's okay," Sam replies softly, having dealt with a female meltdown or two in his days. He guides her toward the living room, letting her choose what to sit on before she explodes into what will surely be a fit of hysteria and tears.

"I'm sorry," Addison gulps again, wiping her eyes with the cuff of her shirt. Pete's been out for two hours, and she's done nothing but stare in his general direction while finishing off her dinner.

The truth is she didn't even bother to try Naomi. After their pathetically short excuse for girl time, and the invented emergency that sent her back toward her own empty house, she didn't feel like risking the scrutiny of her glorious failings.

"Just...tell me what happened," Sam replies calmly, stealing a blanket off the back of the chair and tossing it to her.

"I'm...making such a mess. Pete and Noah and Pete...and Morgan."

Only one of the names catches his attention. Pete. Pete who always does something to make women run in the opposite direction. "What did he do?"

"Nothing...I did it...I'm faltering here Sam. I'm so...out of my element."

He waits for her to regroup and then nods, pushing her along silently, offering a warm hand out to grasp for support.

"It's just...he was the one stable thing in my life...until he wasn't, and now- now my family is crazy and Archer is Archer, Naomi is practically gone...and I'm all alone. I'm faltering, and I don't...know if I can do this."

Sam catches the not-so subtle alluding the late, great Dr. Derek Shepherd and smiles pityingly. He knows how it is to get so attached to something, only to have it snatched out from under your feet, or to go until you no longer recognize what it was that you began with. "You can do this," Sam encourages suddenly. They can pick themselves back up, she's his partner in this.

"You don't even know what I'm talking about," Addison criticizes, but knows it's pointless. He's never needed to know the exact details of what is happening. He's a good friend in that way.

"No, but-" he holds a hand up when she opens her shaking mouth once more, "I know you. I've known you forever and I know that whatever it is that Pete has or has not done is nothing that you can't handle. And...I'm here. Right next door. Always."

"Can I stay here?" Addison asks, feeling like the drunk man on her couch, her cheeks blushing instantly. "I...just don't want to go home tonight."

"Yeah," Sam replies, "Do you want-"

"The couch is good," Addison smiles reassuringly, beginning to pull herself back together after the debacle that happened earlier. All it took was the tiniest of pin pricks to start the explosion of water.

The walls she's built up are crumbling rapidly, suffocating her with their debris.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**


	3. she's the only one you'd die for

A/N: Well, I definitely meant to have this done before the show actually aired, but I got stuck and life got silly, so here we are. Thanks for reading, enjoy-

**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
There Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Morning finds Addison abruptly, its bright rays pouring into her neighbor's living room, delightedly dancing about. It takes her a moment to get her bearings, to regain memory and focus. Split seconds later she's dashing out the back toward her own home, shoes in hand.

Breathless, and sorely out of shape compared to a few months ago, she winces as the door slams behind her, scanning the couch to reveal an empty space that Pete was occupying just a few hours before. She careens her neck back and forth, trying to work the knots out that have built up overnight, reckless sleeping to cite for the aches.

Deep down she hopes he's come to his senses and gone, but moments later the sweet aroma of coffee fills her nostrils and she open hers eyes to find a large blue cup just under her chin. "Thanks," she mumbles, gulping the scalding liquid to hide the morning breath that has accumulated. She nearly spits it all back up though. "Please tell me you believe in sugar."

Pete smiles, working a few fingers through his hair. "I didn't want to go on a treasure hunt through someone's kitchen-"

"But you already-"

"I needed caffeine. I don't know how you take your coffee."

"With sugar," she fills him in. And creamer some days but that's besides the point. Today is a hot chocolate kind of morning if she's ever experienced one. And while there is no plausible or scientific reason for her to feel like she just spent the night at a frat house drinking until she was puking, she does, and it hurts. Everywhere.

"Now I know," Pete nods, dipping his mouth in to kiss the side of her neck as she moves toward the sugar. "I could work out the kinks for you, if you need. I have magical hands."

"So I've heard," Addison yells back, disappearing into a cupboard and digging through boxes that she never uses. Houses should be stocked with food, just in case.

"Where'd you disappear off to last night?" Pete asks wearily, sinking onto the couch and awaiting her return.

"I went to Sam's," Addison says, taking the open spot next to him even though her better judgment tells her to go sit on the opposite side of the room.

"I made you uncomfortable-"

"It...wasn't that." She wraps a hand around her warm cup, Pete peeking over and peering inside. Maybe it's a two cup kind of day.

"What was it then?" Pete pushes, his mug clapping onto the end table as he lowers the volume on the morning news. Forecast outside- sunny. Inside- gloomy and unbearably real. When she shrugs again, he sighs. They were friends, or working on being friends after the disastrous non-sex event, and surprisingly he's enjoyed it. She's a nice rock to lean upon. "Look, about before-"

"Don't," Addison cuts him off. She doesn't want to hear about that night, or the shower, or the lingering glances thereafter. She wants to forget. "It's...been difficult, is all. Nothing big Pete. How are you?"

"Good," Pete murmurs, taking her hand, squeezing gently. As long as they are both lying it's safe. "So married guy last night-"

"Still married, kind of," Addison confirms. He's leaving her, or Morgan's leaving him. She doesn't know. It doesn't really matter all that much. What's done is done, her role already determined. "It's complicated."

"But you're indulging-"

"How's Violet doing lately?"

"Bet the sex is great, all that pent up frustration."

"Naomi said Violet may be coming back to work soon. Maybe I should stop by and check on her."

They dissolve into their land of denial rather quickly, skin upon skin the only solution. He claws at her shirt, hiking her up around his waist and marching off to the kitchen counters. Different treasure hunt, she smiles. His tongue races along her ear, teeth nibble at her neck, biting too hard. He leaves marks on purpose, branding her with their remedy.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Pete loosens the sheet around his hip, flipping onto his stomach, watching Addison. Her arms are stretched above her head, a gentle grin on her mouth. "We going to work today?"

"It's Saturday," Addison replies softly, trying not to break their quiet truce. She needs to stare at the ceiling for a few hours, post-orgasmic bliss. She needs to be still, to analyze what in the world she has managed to get wrapped up into this time.

"True," Pete muses, continuing to watch the slight creases by the corner of her still swollen lips. She tastes good, different. It's refreshing, she isn't expecting anything anymore.

"Pete," Addison sighs, feeling his hand snake under the blanket over her stomach, softly caressing her warm flesh.

"We have all day," Pete mumbles against her chest, dragging the offending material away with his teeth, attempting to find the puckered nipple his free hand has been paying special attention to.

"I can't," Addison decides suddenly, springing up, the blanket falling toward her legs as she exposes herself.

"You have plans?" Pete asks carefully, pulling back reluctantly, enjoying his prize far too much for a man that is thoroughly wiped after the last hour.

"No-I...yes, I have plans. Research, actually."

"I see." Pete's head sinks back down into the fluffy pillow, heart dissolving the opportunity lost. "Tonight, maybe-"

"Pete," Addison swallows deeply, the residual taste of guilt and coffee bubbling upward. She says his name when she's buying time, when she's unsure that pushing forward really is the best option. "You should go back to Violet," she advocates. "She needs you and I think- you're hurting. It's understandable, but it shouldn't continue. We shouldn't...continue."

"You don't enjoy it?" Pete dares, sitting straight up, eyes locked on his target.

Addison reaches around the back of her neck, scraping at the tired muscles. "That's not the issue-"

"Why don't you leave my issues to me-"

"I'm trying to do the right thing here," Addison argues, immediately feeling defensive. "Violet-"

"-is none of your business," Pete finishes harshly, yanking his boxers back up around his waist and lunging under the discarded blankets to discover his jeans. He comes here to escape, he comes here to live in another moment in time. "Look, I'm here because I want to be. Not because I'm hurting, or because...just, I thought we were having fun-"

"Does Violet know you're here?" Addison asks, securing the robe she found on the back of the bathroom door. "Or does she think you're at home?"

"She- I don't know...what she thinks-"

"If you need to talk, I'm here," Addison offers weakly as he covers his amazingly comfortable chest, buttons coming to a quick shut. "I'm not the fun time girl, Pete. I'm not..." she flails unconvincingly, trying to pull words from the thick air around them, "This," she gestures between them, "This isn't about us...and you know that. But I'm still your friend, if you need anything. This can't be easy-"

"Not my kid," Pete grunts, shuffling to the door, and disappearing before his "friend" can take any more pity on him. He doesn't need help. He needs understanding, and he's not going to find it in her.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Dr. Montgomery?" Morgan tries to rouse the redheaded woman from the seeming coma-like state she appears to be in behind her desk.

"Morgan," Addison smiles nervously. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Morgan shakes her head, giving herself permission to take a seat on the couch, fingers linking unceremoniously.

"Do you feel okay? Is the baby ok?"

"Yeah, fine," Morgan replies. "It's...Noah, and I know I shouldn't be here, and I know this isn't your problem...but I kind of thought we were friends, and maybe I'm just a hormonal crazy woman but...I thought maybe you'd have the answer. You always have the answers."

"Morgan," Addison begins patiently, telling herself that this is just another emotional first time mother. This is just another patient. She can be kind, she can be exceptional, professionally. Personally, she slept with the woman's husband a few feet from where she is sitting presently. But that's neither here nor there. "I really don't think this is any of my business," she spews out suddenly, cursing Pete for infecting her mind earlier in the week, and then not bothering to show up at work and help her detox.

"I think there's another woman," Morgan whispers softly, seeing how the weight of it carries across the room. They've been married for so long, unhappily or not, it's a shock to hear aloud. "Maybe I'm overreacting, right? Maybe I'm sleep deprived and crazy and imagining things...but he's never home, and he said he wants a divorce. I'm...I just want to go to bed one night and wake up and realize it was all a bad dream. And I know life doesn't work like that, but I think...if there's someone else...I deserve to know that, right? I deserve something in this."

"Morgan, I think you should talk to Noah. It's the only way you're going to get your answers," Addison says reasonably. God, does she always sound this calm and in control around people? And why in heaven's name can't it transfer outside the walls of her medical skills and years and years of training.

"Yeah," Morgan gulps, prying her hands apart, wiping them nervously on her pants. "Tell me something. Distract me...from this before I go completely insane."

"Ummm," Addison bites down on her lip. She hates this game, oh how she hates it. Improvisation is one thing, sharing something real and personal is another. She reaches for the journal on her desk and plops it down on Morgan's legs, tapping the cover. "That's my brother," she points to the headline. She leaves Derek out of the equation, she likes to leave him in his box whenever possible.

"Parasites in his brain?" Morgan gapes, disgusted.

"Indeed," Addison smiles.

"He's okay now?" Morgan asks, skimming through the article.

"He is," Addison confirms, though she hasn't heard from Archer since he ran away. There was a two line Um mm a few months ago, something about going off to Europe for another book tour, but it was a mass letter sent to at least 50 people, replying felt unimportant at the time.

"Thank you," Morgan grins guiltily, sliding the glossy pages down onto the coffee table in front of her. "For everything."

Addison returns the sentiment along the lines of 'no problem' or 'don't worry about it' but she can't actually remember what she says as her mind drifts off to a place where she stores her memories of Noah.

She's the other woman. She's what's got Morgan going in circles. And here she is trying to sedate her, to ease the storm she is causing. It's backhanded and sneaky, unforgivable and yet in every scenario that comes to mind she'd do it again. Because she likes Morgan, she may love Noah, and she's even okay with seeing them together, and nothing about that adds up correctly.

As Addison watches the younger woman make her apologetic and equally thankful exit she knows that she doesn't want to be a part of the catastrophe that is about to blow wide opened. She doesn't want to be standing in the wreckage, flaming debris swirling around her.

She's not sure she'd survive the explosion anymore.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison fiddles with the numbers on her cell phone trying to work up the courage to dial, trying to maintain the savage ability to keep her lunch down at the same time. It takes almost 20 minutes, a few pep talks, and more than one near breakdown, but she eventually manages.

There will never be enough words for how grateful she is to receive his voicemail instead of him. There will never be enough ways for her to express the magnitude of sadness that keeps rolling through her.

"Hi Noah, it's me, Addison. I know we haven't spoken in a few days...and the thing with Pete...was, awkward. But I wanted to call to say that if you were going to call, or meant to call just...don't. Morgan is a good person, and she loves you, and every time I try and wrap my head around what we are doing...I can't. So, don't call. And don't show up. Just...be with her, for me. And I know that's selfish and stupid and very...womanly of me to do, but it's the right thing, I hope. Be with your wife."

When she reaches the end there are tears welling in her eyes, a heaviness in her chest, and the last bit is forced, "Goodbye."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Addison," Pete scowls, opening his door wider, soaking in her disheveled appearance in the dim light of his porch.

"Good, you're alive," she snarls, digging the point of her heel into the concrete below her. "Look, I need to know when you are coming back to work, if you are coming back."

"Monday," Pete answers honestly, watching the crinkle of her eyes begin to brighten. "I was an ass," Pete says after a few moments of self imposed silence.

"No-" Addison holds up a hand. She's had the better half of a week to come to terms with this, and since she managed to call Noah today she figured why stop the roll. "It's...it was a mistake, we don't have to talk about it."

"Right," Pete agrees.

"Is Violet okay?" Addison asks seriously, not meaning to torture him for the first time since they began their dizzying dance.

"She's doing a little better. It takes time, right?"

"She's worth it," Addison observes, Pete's face bouncing joyously.

"Yeah, she is."

"Good," she breathes. "Well, good. I'm glad...for you."

"Addison," Pete interrupts what is certain to be a long-winded rambling speech, a collected hand on her slumping shoulder. "Addison," he repeats, biding his time. What he really wants to say is thanks, but it seems inappropriate given all the sex and lies and delusion they were drowning themselves in.

"It's okay," she assures him before he can come up with anything, even sliding his hand down off of her.

"I hope things work out, with Noah," Pete says wistfully, filling in a blank that's meant to stay empty.

"Me too," she replies sincerely. In all of this mess, she does hope it works out for Noah, for Pete.

Because it's easier to care for others than it is to care for herself, and it hurts a whole hell of a lot less too.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

She's not really surprised that when she arrives home Noah is slumped against the entryway, a bundle of limp flowers in his grasp. He wouldn't be Noah if he wasn't here, but it still makes her sigh, still makes her heart tingle. "You don't understand English now?"

"I got your message," Noah says, edging back up, spine unaligned and aching. "Addison," he says gently, brushing against her cheek. "I thought...you wanted this, us, together."

"I do, I did," Addison decides in a split second. Because the merry-go-round is never going to stop if she isn't the one to yank to cord.

"Don't worry about Morgan," Noah advises, handing her the flowers, dying though they may be, the intent still clear. "I know what I'm doing."

"But I don't...know what I'm doing," Addison tells him, throat threatening to seal off at any moment and break way to the terrible day that it has really been. His confidence won't be enough in the long run to carry them as far as they need to go.

"I love you," Noah replies, hands on her hips, eyes trying desperately to make a connection, to wipe the fear from her face.

"Please...stop with that."

"It's true," Noah argues.

"You're making it too hard."

"Then let it be easy Addie," Noah advises, mouth closing in at a rapid rate.

She kisses him back because it's what she does, tender, heartfelt, all the things that make her weak in the knees and cloudy in the rationale department. She could spend the rest of her life doing this. They could get a dog, take walks, make dinner together. They could have his and hers towels, and a small private wedding, maybe even adopt a child.

They could be perfectly happy.

Not all love stories start with fate, some are gruesome tales of sorrow and enduring the unendurable.

"I can't." She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes away. "I can't. This...isn't what I want anymore Noah."

"I left Morgan," Noah adds, pleading his case. "I want you."

"I thought...I could get past it, the way we started. I thought...if I gave it time, that it wouldn't matter. But it does, it does matter. I'm...not this woman. And I'm tired of changing for the men in my life."

"I'm not asking you to change," Noah demands, thinking that this conversation should probably be moved inside.

"You didn't have to," Addison replies. Because she does it automatically, conforming. That's how desperate it's gotten, she chides. "It's not your fault," she comforts.

"Addison."

"Goodnight Noah," Addison says, opening her door, and shutting it loudly in his face. Goodbye was wrong, she'll still see him around she's sure, and it's probably going to sting for a long time, but she can get over being without him. She's accomplished much more lofty goals.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

The weeks wear down into autumn, California barely cooling, the ocean outside her doors the same blue anger she's used to watching churn night after night.

There's little to repair in the way of her friendship with Naomi. People move on, Sam says, and though they aren't as active as they once were in each other's lives she knows that if push came to shove she has a friend to lean on.

Eventually they all come back. Violet and Pete at the same time, adorable and supportive. Dell gets his life in order enough to pull two thirds, leaving to pick up his daughter every day before school lets out. And even when Cooper is laying low she still knows that he's around, the practice bounding with children ever since their story hit the local news channels and papers. It's not everyday a woman survives a home c-section after all.

Katie is in a psychiatric hospital receiving the help Violet insists she needs, reaching a level of forgiveness that Addison's not sure she could ever piece together if the roles were reversed. And she still sees Noah weekly, but the lingering glances have been replaced with glares, their connection as fiery and bright as it ever was.

"You're here late again," Sam interjects, busting into her thoughts, the recounting that keeps her from the files she completed hours ago but that still sit on her desk so can pretend to have a legitimate reason not to go home yet.

"Busy," Addison replies as he sits down in front of her, placing a hand on one of her thin bunches of paperwork. She's managed extra research in the last few days, submitted two articles for review, done seven intervies with various media outlets, and rearranged her schedule so that she could be at St. Ambrose cutting/healing (elective and emergent situations) once a week. Professionally, she's never been more dedicated, and it's impressive. At the rate she's going she may find the cure to something before she dies. Well, not quite. But she does have a full patient load, and is thinking of volunteering her services at a local women's shelter on her free Sunday afternoons. Her life is full to the brim and utterly unsatisfying.

But the less time she spends alone with herself the better; the less time she spends having to tell herself that she's not alone the better.

"Uh huh," Sam complies, resting his head on his forearm. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Do I ever?" Addison laughs.

"No, but I have to offer," Sam explains. "It's what good friends do."

"I haven't seen you around much," Sam says next, imploring her to speak.

"Busy," Addison repeats with an over exaggerated shrug.

"Well how does your busy self feel about going out and grabbing some dinner, maybe drinks?" Sam asks, already standing, looking like he's not going to take no for an answer.

"I have a lot to catch up on," Addison motions to the desk that's purposefully messy.

"I'm not going to let you dissolve into your desk," Sam asserts, staring her down until she grabs her coat and purse.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

It takes three drinks to get her loosened, to get her tongue flopping. Sam dips his tortilla chip into the mouth-scorching salsa on the table as she talks about the concept she has for a new book. She wants his opinion because he's a guru in the field and all.

"Addison stop," Sam instructs, drawing a puzzled look from her. She's talking to talk, attempting conversation when it's wholly unnecessary. "I mean, don't stop writing the book, if you like it, if you want to publish it. It sounds really good actually, refreshing even."

"Okay," Addison frowns, polishing off her margarita. Their food arrives before she can come up with another subject to exhaust. She's forgetting how to interface with someone other than the general public that is her patient roster. "Sorry," she says between bites. "I'm...I haven't been out lately."

"We know," Sam nods, taking a drink of water, designating himself as the person who will pour Addison onto her couch tonight. "Everyone is a bit concerned Addison."

"I'm fine."

"You are practically living in your office."

"I don't want to talk about it," is all she can manage to say, promptly ordering another drink when the waiter checks in with them. If she talks about it, it may become real, it may become something she has to deal with.

"Look, I'm not telling you how to live your life," Sam breathes, reaching for her hand across the table. "I don't even know how to live my own, but I'm saying...if you need to take a break sometime, maybe come down the hall, I'm there."

"I'm alone," Addison corrects, cracking, feeling the plague of depression begin to swarm around her ears. "I'm all alone Sam."

"You-"

"You have Maya," Addison speaks up before he can say something about understanding or about how she isn't alone. "And you still see Naomi, and you have Thurgood Marshall. And I have...a closet full of shoes, a brain that won't turn off at night anymore, and more baggage than any man will ever want to deal with. And all I can keep thinking is...what if this is it? What if I spend the next 20 years collecting shoes and cutting people open...and that's it?" And that inevitably leads her to the life she used to have and how that got screwed up. It's a vicious cycle.

"We don't know what the future holds," Sam advises.

"I know what it doesn't hold- children, men, friends. I'm a cat lady without cats."

"You could get some."

"This is not funny Samuel," Addison warns.

"I don't have the solution you want." He strokes the warm skin he still has a grip on. "No one does. Life did not turn out how we thought it was going to, but we will adapt. We can do this."

"How?" Addison chokes, sipping her water to mask the raw feeling in her chest. Is she always this pathetic, she wonders. She's been worn down, frayed, and torn. It's an excuse, but it's really all she has.

"Slowly?" Sam replies unsure. He drops his hold on her and reaches down, pulling out a small gift bag with crushed tissue paper, and torn sides. It didn't travel well.

Addison's brow creases in confusion and when she finally gets it she buries her palms into her burning eyes. "It's my birthday. I forgot my own birthday," she moans. Just what she needed. Another year.

"That's why I'm here," Sam smiles proudly. "For when you forget."

"Thank you," Addison smiles candidly for the first time in what feels like forever. She howls, however, when something sharp draws blood from her finger and tenderly pulls the present free of its enclosure. "A cactus?"

"A friend," Sam elaborates. "Violet thinks you may do well with a plant and Pete thought you'd like something low maintenance, so I went out at lunch and picked this guy. Cooper named him Hank."

"Ridiculous," Addison accuses, chuckling at her gift.

"For the girl who has everything," Sam emphasizes, "Cactus Hank."

"Well, I'll give it a try," Addison agrees carefully pushing Hank to the center of the table so she can admire the hand painted pot and dry soil. It's unconventional, and possibly the best birthday present she's ever received. The fact that everyone was a part of it only makes it that much more special.

Sometimes when you truly need life will deliver. Suffrage and sacrifice cast away for a brief respite, Addison is momentarily soaring amongst her grief. "We can do this?" she asks of Sam, her friend, her only comrade in the line of fire.

"We already are. Everyday," he assures her. "Something good is going to happen, Addison. And when it does you won't even be thinking to look back at what is happening right now."

She finishes her meal in silence, occasionally glancing up at Sam, a soothing smile always on his lips.

"I'm so tired of going home alone," she mumbles, letting her fork clatter onto the plate, chocolate cake half unfinished. Her beach house is filled with trinkets from another life, meant to be something so much more than it is. It's become almost pathological, her fear of sitting in the dark, watching the outside world. On the especially sinister days she sleeps in her office, or on call rooms to avoid it.

"Naomi insists that your guest bed is better than my lumpy mattress," Sam alludes, hoping she'll draw the right conclusion.

"You'd stay with me?"

"Well, I do have a theory to test." Sam plays along, because neither of them wants to be that weak, that needy. But in truth, they are, and it would be nice to have another person breathing within the immediate vicinity. It'd be nice to look down someone else's hallway when he can't sleep, to peer inside someone else's refrigerator in the middle of the night.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Night Sam!" Addison yells, her door wide open, a pillow in her clutches. Cactus Hank is proudly displayed on her beside table, and for the first time since Pete was here, she doesn't need the television to pacify her restlessness.

"Goodnight Addison," Sam calls back, rolling onto his back. He has to admit, her bed kicks his bed's ass, even with his dog curled up to his neck and refusing to budge. "Happy Birthday."

Addison smiles, warm tears streaming across her face, creating a black mosaic of mascara on her pillowcase. This time the overwhelming urge is brought on by happiness, however fleeting it may turn out to be.

She can't guarantee tomorrow. But she has tonight.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**


End file.
